Baby blue paint peeled away from the wet, rotting wood in desperation to part away from its damp, gloomy surface. The smell of burnt ashes lingered in the air. Steam from a young girls fragile breath pressed against the old, weak window, and the thin, moth-eaten curtain draped down just behind it. Brown, weary eyes, slotted into a stone cold face that was white as snow. An empty soul slowly dying out. Everything inside was trapped by a piece of stronger wood, blocking insiders from the world outside. A lifeless naked tree drooped towards the crumbling concrete below. Phantom listeners cowered away into the darkness although their whispers barely audible.
Lying on the dusty window sill were small rusty tins left to die. Plant pots stood tall as the only thing with colour left in them. Everything else was completely dull. Their life and colour had been drained from them. It was a still place, a quiet place, but if you dare stay there too long you may think differently…
Posts Tagged ‘Philana H’
The world of the dead:
Thursday, September 22nd, 2011Romantic opening:
Thursday, September 22nd, 2011Each and every night I lay in bed, wide awake. Tears rolling down my cold, wet cheeks. You never realise how much you will miss something until it’s gone. You try to make me jealous of you and your girlfriend, but it just makes me love you more. I want you back. Every time I think of what we used to be, memories come flooding back. I miss you. I love you. Do you still love me? No of course not. I’m just one of the many girls you told you loved. But it was just a lie. You’re good at that. Lying. The amount of arguments we have had. The amount of tears I’ve let hit the floor. The amount of lies that have been told… I have to fake a smile and pretend I’m over you. One of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do was get over you, and I don’t think I can do that again.